Letters to Daddy
by AlthaeaRosea
Summary: Popuri writes letters to her Dad. She finds out about the hidden message from her Dad, making it her sword and shield to face the battle of life. WIP.


Firstly, please forgive my english. i wrote in english two years ago. it turned out awful. you may check out my 'third wish' if you're curious. and now i tried again. i hope it shows some significant development. sigh.

so, it's popuri's story. she writes letters to her daddy who left in effort to seek medicine for curing his dear wife, who is suffering from a gravely disease blablabla. yeah, yeah, you knew that already.

it's not going to be a long one. maybe a letter or two after this and the story's done. this first letter is just an opening. the plot will start on the next letter.

enjoy. R&R please i really need a passion lifter since it's my first english fic after a long time.

disclaimer (i _always _forgot this thing): harvest moon doesn't belong to me.

...

Spring 26th 2010

Dear Daddy,

Dad, those nights when you tucked me, we never ceased to celebrate our sacral ritual. You whispered me those mysteries only fairies in the meadows knew. You said those sparks with dewdrop-like wings belonged to a rustic oak home, with a wide window, a warm-from-the-chrysalis silk curtain on each side. The window and its beautifier were just the outmost layers of the precious rose. It was the view which made the fairies were called as fairies, not humans.

Then, Dad, I would show that thing you called as 'opal corner star' in my eyes. Chiky –you still remember her? My cherished possession, though it was just a stuffed hen, you gave me when I was three- would run through your arm, jumping gaily to your shoulder so she could hear your words which was like a string of jolly melodies from the fairy's lily-cup at tea-time.

Then you opened that sacred door, so you could take me in your arms, crossing the line which was forbidden for our kind, at least for _most_ of our kind. You would tell me the landscape from the fairies' chaste window, the landscape none of other humans' eyes ever laid upon. When you said 'humans', it was as if as they were some foreign creatures, never been part of _us._

"_The simple lush green on the ground itself radiates the colors of the fairest rainbow, dear little opal corner star –oh, how I adore that nickname of yours-. The proud mountain peaks on the background act as an enclosure, with a promise of everlasting freedom. The trees, ah, the trees, they who have been hearing the mourns the wind brings from foreign regions. Never been on the land under the sky a creature wiser than the trees. The wind, true-blue with the trees, they go on a voyage every dawn and dusk to gather every element from other windows' views. Upon seeing things worth a hundred years of tears, their spirit and splendor can never be broken, that noble wind. The sky, Popuri dear, is a magnificent ballroom for eyes like yours,"_

As a dreamy little girl, I thought it was the best fairy tale ever. But years passed by until the point where reality opened up to me, and now I believe neither in fairies with their lily-cups filled with glowing chamomile tea, nor in their hair strings created from the moonlight which shone upon daisies' essence. Daddy, I have grown up. As petite and as gay as you told me I would be. Rick has grown up too. But I rather not to talk about him right now. We… are starting to walk separate ways, each one of us a different path.

Daddy, how is the view from your window? Is it as delicate as one in the fairies' home? The lost of childhood wonders is not to be lamented. The pieces of wonders were scattered, it took me a moment of peace beside the Pond of Harvest Goddess before the ruin I tried to rehabilitate started to show a regular pattern.

I understand now, Dad. About the window and its beautifier. About the view from that common thing belongs to every house. About the one kept save by the fairies you had been trying to make me see. To make it simple, it's how one pictures this big world, his life, and everything growing and crumbling between both spaces.

You wanted me to see what is not seen by other humans. Always seeing only the good and not being disturbed by problems, even deeper than that. You know what kind of depth, Dad. Conclusion is, live life like a 'fairy', not a real fairy with mist as its wings and four-leaved clover as its shoes, reality has exterminated its existence. But a little 'fairy' inside of my heart. I'm right, aren't I, Dad?

I'm trying, I really am. It's just… lonely to keep struggling alone. Since it's only you and I who know how to catch a glimpse of the fairies' window view. Mom and Rick don't, somehow.

Dad, come back soon. Then we'll share the view together, like how we used to share a cup of tea.

Affectionately,

Your Opal Corner Star

...

there.

thank you so much for reading, it means a lot to me.

oh and please tell me if i wrote something wrong.

thank you.

/edited/


End file.
